Something New
by summersquares
Summary: Losing his memory, reliving his family's deaths, retiring, and returning, as well as some new arrivals in his life, have Gibbs taking a new look at his life and what he wants. Starts in summer and ends at Christmas. Tibbs. Slash. First time. Don't like, don't read. Thanks!


Title: Something New

Author: threesquares aka summersquares

Rating: R (or NC-17, depending on your tolerance)

Disclaimer: I don't own them.

Characters/Pairings: Gibbs/DiNozzo

Genre: Slash; First Time

Warnings: Other than the saucy bits, nothing I can see. Also it is long. I'm sorry!

Word Count: 15,997 (kind of makes me want to write three more words)

Beta: My favorite monkey, and all mistakes are mine.

Written For: 2014 tibbs_yuletide Day 02

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Gibbs was not a fanciful man.

His father, Jackson Gibbs, was a storyteller of the first water, and could, would, stay up into the early hours of the morning laughing and shooting the breeze with friends and family. If Jethro was a nostalgic man—and he wasn't that either—he would smile to remember laying in bed as a boy, hearing the voices drifting up in stereo: the sharp, bright tones of a group on the porch smoking and talking as well as the duller, more indistinct ebb and flow of the people downstairs playing cards or refilling drinks in the kitchen. If he thought about it, he would remember that their house was regularly the center of such gatherings: family descending for long weekends or holidays or local friends from church or lodge or town. If he really let himself remember—something only likely under the strongest of painkillers or...well, some heretofore unimagined future circumstance that was so improbable as to be impossible...if he really let himself venture deep into memory, he would remember how comfortable it was lying there in the dark of his room, all the chattering grown ups downstairs. The deep blue depth of the night sky creeping in from outside, limning the neat tower of boxes on his desk, full of neatly stacked baseball cards, next to the model cars. The white of his pillow and sheets almost glowing in his side vision when he turned his head against the shadowy twilight of everything else in the room, including the navy blue quilt weighing him down.

He had no desire to be downstairs among the adults. But the niggling voice saying he would feel safer with a nightlight—something he had decided on his ninth birthday last month that he was too old for—was silent just now with so many people below him, at his back.

But Gibbs didn't. Remember things like that. Not really. He wasn't nostalgic, and he certainly wasn't fanciful. He didn't believe in signs or portents, the jinx, or the evil eye. Oh, there were some things that you just didn't do, no sense inviting trouble. Like shaving before a mission or cleaning your boots in the morning. Like that. But nothing like what Abby got up to. Though he had to admit, it worked for her, for them all; he had seen whatever alchemy her personal brand of beliefs produced lead to closing a case more than once.

No, Gibbs was not a fanciful man. But if he was, he would have felt the fickle hand of fate hanging over him that day. Trouble and surprises, often indistinguishable, came in threes. And the first two arrived before 0500 one August morning. The sky was just starting to show a faint orange glow at the horizon.

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Gibbs liked waking in the dark. It was efficient. Plus testing himself against the dark with everything light ahead of him. He was showered and ready by the time it was light outside. He would either work in the basement until he drove into the Yard, or just go in early. Sometimes he ran the two miles to the park and looped around it before returning home to the small house in the small suburb where he lived, the houses old enough to have decent sized lots and still be surrounded by some dense woods.

He didn't need an alarm clock and woke within minutes of 0430 almost every morning, but slowly, his eyes opening in the dark to blink to awareness as the living room brightened imperceptibly around him. This morning he felt every one of his 50 years—in his knees mostly—and decided not to run. He started the coffee and instead of taking ibuprophen, took a longer and hotter than normal shower in the guest bath off the kitchen, pulling on jeans and a tshirt from the pile on the dryer when he was done. He'd work on the boat for a couple of hours, then change and go in to work, still ahead of his team...most of the time. Ziva and McGee sometimes came in early. Tony and Abby sometimes never left.

He slipped on the supportive sandals Ducky had bought him one Christmas—looked like a hippie but they were a hell of a lot easier on his knees given the hours he spent standing on cement—and poured himself a mug of coffee. An hour later, probably close to 0600, Gibbs took the stairs two at a time to pour himself more coffee. He was almost to the pot when he heard the racket from the street out front.

Muffler shot, he thought, waiting for the car to pass. This early in the morning, this deep in the relatively sheltered neighborhood, it was rare to hear much traffic. The noise came closer and then the squeal of brakes joined the clangor of the broken exhaust system. Doors slammed—one, two, three, four—and the hysterical wails of children in distress topped off the god-awful din.

Gibbs turned and pushed his empty mug onto the counter, grabbed a flashlight and his wallet, even as he strode through the house and out and down the steps.

A station wagon was stopped in the middle of the road and while the engine was running rough, at least the muffler wasn't clanking. There was a dog-shaped shadow lying in the road illuminated by the headlights, and four dark human shapes crowing in around it in a panic.

"Hey now." The shapes had resolved themselves into a woman and three children, all turning at the sound of his deep voice. All three kids shifted closer to the woman, the two smallest to press against her legs, the tallest of the three moving to stand by her side and a little in front. Recognizing the protective stance, Gibbs stopped a good ways away and pointed back to the house, golden light spilling from his open front door.

"Hey. Sorry to surprise you. I'm Jethro Gibbs. I live there. See my light? I'm a federal agent." He turned the flashlight on to illuminate the badge, then flicked it off. "Mind if I take a look?"

"Oh. Of...of course. Kids, back up okay? Let's get out of Mr. Gibbs' way. Did we...did I...hit your dog?" The woman's voice was steady but sorrowful and worried.

"I don't have a dog. In fact, there isn't anyone around here with a dog. Not since the Lucy family moved last winter." Gibbs wanted to get a look at the dog, which hadn't moved at all that he could tell.

"I'm Lucy," said the smallest shadow, in a tiny voice.

"Oh, so you came back then. How was Minnesota?"

A small giggle. "I'm Lucy. Not the Lucy family."

The middle-sized shadow asked. "Will you help the dog, sir?"

"You can call me Gibbs, or Jethro, not sir. Let me see what I can do, okay, son?" The voice had been distinctly masculine, even though young. From the height of the dark shape, maybe six or seven? That made Lucy younger than that. Gibbs catalogued these impressions and facts even as he flicked on the flashlight and directed the beam on the ground until he illuminated the dog. Probably dead or unconscious given how still it was.

Instead, he found himself looking at the red glint of the light reflecting against alert black eyes peering up at him from where it lay, head on paws, just in front of the station wagon. Gibbs moved closer and crouched down, biting back any sound that would betray his stiff knees should have taken ibuprophen and reaching forward to pet the soft fur. Big.

Gibbs could see more now since it must be approaching 0630 and sunrise. He felt more than saw movement around him and heard the woman's voice from where she leaned over him, trying to get a look.

"Is he okay?"

"Looks it." Gibbs pronounced. He stood up and looked around. "Let's get your car off the road and see if we can get the dog to come up on my lawn."

"Let me just pull into the driveway."

Gibbs turned back to her in surprise. "You were coming here?"

Her face was a pale oval in the dim light of morning. He could see her dark hair in a pony tail, surrounded, even in the new light, by a halo of escaped curls. "Next door. But yeah. We're moving from Florida. We must...must seem strange...coming in the middle of the night."

Gibbs liked her forthrightness, felt the need to defend. "It's almost morning. Nothing wrong with morning. Nothing wrong with nighttime either, come to that."

She smiled, again felt more than seen, and said, "Let me get the car moved. Kids, you want to stay here or get in the car for one more minute?" Neither of those options seemed desirable so in the end, she walked the kids over to the small front lawn of the ranch style house next to Gibbs', and then walked back to retrieve the car. Gibbs stood by the dog, leaning over to pat his (her?) head briefly. He was reassured by the quick rise and fall of the dog's flanks against his foot, and the thump of the heavy tail on the asphalt. The dog was bigger, even, than he had first thought and if he wasn't mistaken, was resolving out of the darkness into one of those large, furry breeds...a retriever, or a...St. Bernard? They were really big though.

Finally, the red tail lights went dark where the woman parked in the driveway, and there was quiet again in the neighborhood. Gibbs was a little surprised no one else had come out to see what all the racket was about but maybe, coming up on Labor Day weekend, people were away.

He moved a few steps toward his house and turned back toward the dog. "You coming?"

The dog didn't bark, but it did rise and follow Gibbs to his lawn. His new neighbors stood on their own lawn in the growing light. Gibbs sighed, inwardly.

"Why don't you all come in?" He glanced ruefully down at the dog. He'd have to figure out what to do with it. "Nothing to eat over there. I've got coffee and...uh...milk and cereal. Don't have any donuts, but you can come in and sit down for a minute."

The kids looked at their mother, hungry obviously. "If you are sure, Mr….er...Agent Gibbs."

"Just Gibbs. Or Jethro." Gibbs repeated.

"Well, that would be...nice, Jethro. I could really use a bathroom, to be honest."

Gibbs smiled and led the way in, deliberately turning his back and letting them follow at their own pace. The snick of the outside light was drowned out by the click of the dogs nails on the old hardwood. He was putting a bowl of water down for the dog when the bedraggled family made their way into his kitchen.

"Here, kids, have a seat. We'll let your mom go to the bathroom." Lucy, hair wild from sleep, looked up at him solemnly but still held tight to her mother's hand and went with her to the small bathroom that Gibbs' pointed her to. The other two kids were equally disheveled, but not dirty. The oldest was a girl, her hair short and straight where her mother's was long and curly, but still dark and shiny. Her brother's hair was lighter, almost blonde, though not as blonde as Lucy's. They perched tentatively on chairs around his old oak table.

Gibbs moved to the counter. "What can I get you...water, milk, coffee?" The girl looked at the closed bathroom door.

"I'll have coffee. Please." Her brother shot her a look but didn't say anything.

After a few seconds, he said, "Me too, please."

Gibbs didn't hesitate. The way to a mother was through her kids, and a mother like this, indulging them, even if it skirted a line, was probably okay. He filled two mugs with an inch of coffee and the rest milk. The girl scowled a little but didn't say anything. Her brother grinned like he had won the lottery and drained the mug.

Gibbs laughed. "What're your names, kids?"

"I'm Sophie and he's—"

"Brian!" Brian spoke for himself, gap-toothed grin still in place, even as he turned his head to see his mother and sister rejoining them. She glanced at their mugs.

"Did you say thank you?"

The two kids looked shamefaced and hurried to say 'thanks'.

"They said please, and drank up. Thanks enough." He raised an empty mug and poured another cup when she nodded. "House has been empty about a month now. You have furniture coming?"

"Should be here this morning," She smiled suddenly. Tired though she was, she was obviously happy to be there. "I know we should have waited until this morning to get on the road, but we just wanted to get here, you know?" Lucy had climbed up onto her mother's lap so when the woman held out her hand, Gibbs had to go to her to shake it.

"I'm Caroline Strogatz." Even as the two adults shook, Lucy curled forward, stuck her thumb in her mouth, eyes half closed already, too tired to be thirsty even. Gibbs crossed to the refrigerator, opened the freezer and smiled. Last month, Tony's brief stay at his house while his apartment complex was fumigated, had resulted in a number of unusual grocery purchases, including frozen waffles. He put two in the toaster without asking, put the syrup on the counter.

Caroline smiled thanks and continued, "Movers'll be here by ten with furniture and all our boxes. We have sleeping bags if we don't get everything set up in time."

"You have to put the beds together and move all the furniture in yourself?"

"No, the movers will do that too, don't worry...that dog...he's not yours?"

"Nope. Never seen him before."

While they ate, Gibbs discovered that Caroline was a writer and her husband was an analyst for the Navy. They were moving from Pensacola, but her husband was currently stationed at Camp Lemmonier in Djibouti, Africa. Fifteen minutes later, the older kids were full and ready to explore their new home. Gibbs could tell Caroline was too. She declined help with Lucy and thanked him gratefully, but firmly. Gibbs checked his watch, realizing he had to go too. Not sure he wanted to get too involved and equally concerned about not making Caroline feel uncomfortable, Gibbs didn't offer his house for dinner. He'd stop by later and check on them.

He leaned against the counter and finished his coffee, looking over to meet the dog's calm eyes where he (she?) lay...almost...close enough for him to touch. He had started out farther away but Jethro suspected he had been inching over while he fed his new neighbors. Too innocent eyes met his. Like Tony. Gibbs' lips twitched.

"And what am I going to do about you?"

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In the end, he brought her to work with him, unsure of whether the dog would wreck his house if left alone, and without a fenced in backyard, he didn't have a lot of options. He walked into the bullpen a little later than usual for him and found his entire team present, if not hard at work. Tony was perched on Ziva's desk and she had her head tilted upward, her laughter devoid of mockery for once. McGee was on the phone, but both Tony and Ziva turned to greet Gibbs as he strode past them to his desk. He saw them look at each other in his peripheral vision, wondering if he was going to mention the 80 pound black shaggy furball now seated next to his desk.

"Uh...boss?"

"Yeah, DiNozzo?"

"New addition to the team?"

Gibbs looked up. "Left practically on my doorstep. Call the PD near me and find out if anyone reported a Newfie missing."

"A Newfie?" Tony looked dubiously at the dog but Ziva was busy petting her and McGee joined her when he was done with his call. Tony brushed at his pants as if, even at 10 feet, he would get hair all over him. Gibbs raised his eyebrow. "On it, boss."

Tony liked dogs alright, but Abby loved them and Tony knew whoever told her there was a dog here would get points plus it would irritate Gibbs to have Abby slowing down the morning briefing. He texted her even as he put in a call to the Alexandria PD.

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As the days passed, Gibbs found more and more reasons not to bring the dog to animal control or the pound.

No one had reported a Newfie missing.

The dog, while well-behaved, had put on enough weight this week that it was clear she had been living rough for a while.

The Strogatz children loved her and were willing to walk her during the day and check her water.

The dog loved Gibbs.

#4 wasn't really a point in her favor and there was a part of Gibbs that wanted to send her away for his own good. He didn't need something else to take care of, his team was trouble enough, he grumbled. And yet, every night, he'd find that he had waited too late to get to the pound on the night they stayed open, or that he was too busy with other things to get to it tonight. He thought maybe he would place an ad in the paper so he could make sure she got a good owner. But the thought of all those people coming to his house gave him the willies.

Finally, after a week, Gibbs gave in and let Lucy name her. Didn't mean he was going to keep her, but he had to call her something, even if Lucy would probably give her a name like Princess or Blackie.

They were in the driveway; Gibbs having just gotten home. Lucy and Brian brought the dog over to him and he could see Sophie watching over the top of her book where she lay in the hammock. The little girl stood with her hand practically above her head, resting on the dog's back and looked up at him with that serious face she had, hair wild and silly in contrast.

"She needs a name, Gibbs." The other kids called him Agent Gibbs, whatever he said, and Caroline didn't comment, so he suspected that she was behind it. Lucy, however, was proving to dance to her own tune in most things.

"Does she now?" He reached out to scratch the dog's head. She leaned into him so fast, he almost staggered. He widened his stance and kept scratching her.

"Yes she does."

"Do you have any ideas?"

Lucy nodded, put her thumb in her mouth. She sucked deliberately for a minute and then removed it decisively.

"Her name is Lucy."

"That's your name, Luce." Brian said. He was just as sunny at 6 as Lucy was serious at 4, and there wasn't a hint of derision in his voice. Just pointing it out.

Lucy nodded and stroked...Lucy's...head, level with her own as she stood there. "It's her name too, Gibbs." A hint of challenge, maybe pleading. Gibbs didn't even fight it.

"Lucy it is. Should we call her Lucy 2?"

"Lucy too!" Brian again. "I'm going to go tell Mom!"

Lucy's arms crept around Lucytoo's neck and gave her a squeeze good-bye. The dog endured it stoically, but soon enough Lucy let go and turned away. "Bye, Gibbs."

"Hey, Lucy."

Lucy turned back.

"Ask your Mom if you guys would like to have hamburgers at my house tonight. My...friends...are coming over too. I got enough for everyone."

Lucy smiled. No grins for her, too showy. But her blue eyes smiled and she nodded and ran off.

Gibbs snapped his fingers—something he discovered the dog—Lucytoo—understood and she followed him happily into the house. Abby insisted on seeing her again, badgered him all afternoon, and in the end, he invited her over for Friday night burgers and she invited everyone else. Ducky was a regular visitor, and Tony often made his way over a couple times a week. Even Ziva would stop by sometimes, usually on a Sunday morning. McGee was less casual about visiting but even he had been there multiple times to pick Gibbs up or drop something off.

Lucytoo had been with him a little more than a week now and who was he kidding she wasn't going anywhere anytime soon but other than the Strogatz' family, and because of an incredibly time-consuming case, no one had been by. Gibbs continued to be surprised at how quiet the dog was. She only barked when he was home. The kids and Caroline reported that when they went in to get her for her walk, she didn't bark at all. When he was home with her, though, she would bark, just one deep alert, when someone was at the door. Letting him know someone was there, he figured.

Except for Lucy. She didn't bark when Lucy was at the door alone.

Gibbs started making hamburgers.

Bruff!

He looked up and smiled at Abby who minced through the door on high platform heels holding hotdog and hamburger buns, and a bottle of champagne. She popped the cork and perched on a stool at the end of his counter while he continued making patties. Lucy leaned against her heavily as Abby scratched behind her ears.

Bruff!

McGee poked his head in, bringing the rest of his body and a watermelon at Gibbs' invitation and the sight of Lucy's wagging tail.

Bruff!

Ziva joined them bringing fancy condiments from some upscale store near her. Gibbs would have ribbed her for it, but he didn't want her to stop bringing them.

Bruff!

Ducky and Palmer arrived together and Gibbs rolled his eyes when he saw they each carried a pie.

"Someone's birthday, Duck?"

"Well, Jethro. It has been some time since we all got together out of the hallowed halls of our beloved Yard. I thought dessert was in order. Mr. Palmer agreed." Jimmy Palmer smiled in a way that didn't really irritate him the way it used to.

The front door opened again and Tony strode through carrying his own grocery sack.

Gibbs glanced at Lucytoo. The dog watched Tony approach and nosed her way under his empty right hand, loose at his side as he greeted the others. Tony looked down in surprise but gamely scratched the dog's head.

Huh. Lucy. And_ Tony._

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Jethro didn't know what to think. Maybe it would have happened anyway. But.

If not for the dog, then Sophie wouldn't join him for coffee some mornings, blowing on her mug and reading her book. If not for the dog, Brian wouldn't have brought him a piece of wood, carefully chosen after much consultation with the man at the hardware store, and asked him teach him how to carve it into a hammer. Like Thor's. But smaller. And wooden. If not for the dog, Lucy wouldn't hold his hand when they walked her namesake around the block. He could almost hate the dog for it.

He found friendship, of a sort, with Caroline, who often lapsed into silence as profound as his own, mid-sentence sometimes, at her vintage formica kitchen table, hand around the stem of a glass of white wine. He had a beer. Kids sprawled in front of the tv or in their backyard with Lucytoo. He would watch as Caroline would rise, start chopping vegetables, or to refill her glass, before moving to jot notes on a pad of paper by the phone. Sometimes she came back and with an apologetic glance, would pick up where they left off, talking about how to get to the farmer's market, or Caroline quizzing him about the neighbors. She didn't want to meet them, she just wanted to know about them. It was the writer in her, he figured. Occasionally he wondered if he was putting her in a bad position, a single man drinking with a married woman, talking about their day. Sort of. Cause he didn't do much talking. But she never seemed uncomfortable and was often the one who invited him over or plunked herself down with a sigh on his back porch. Also, while he took opportunities that presented themselves, he was too old to really feel like much of a threat to anyone. It's not like he was a dedicated flirt like Tony. And it was...nice, to have people around.

Damn dog.

If not for the dog, he'd still be sleeping on the couch. It was her one disobedience. Once he was asleep, she would climb up on the couch with him. Most times, this woke him up, 80 pounds of dog squirming to get comfortable, but the few times it didn't, he woke with one leg or the other sound asleep and had a hell of a time shaking off the pins and needles. So he moved up to the bedroom, refusing to clean up or move the boxes and odds and ends that had come to live there, as a spare space. But he changed the sheets now, and Lucytoo would stretch out alongside him, as close to the end of the bed as she could get. Jethro felt this was vaguely apologetic. Like she couldn't help herself but was sorry about it all.

If not for the dog, Gibbs wouldn't have wondered what was different about Tony. Lucy never barked when Tony came. And while whenever he was available, she sat on Gibbs' feet or at his side, if Gibbs left the room, she relocated to Tony. She had a hierarchy of sorts. Him then Tony then Lucy and then whoever wanted to pet her.

In the two months he had owned her or she had owned him he wasn't sure which there had only been two people now three that Lucytoo didn't like. The first was the man who came to hook up the cable. It was their fourth day in the neighborhood and Caroline described to him later how Lucytoo was over at their house when the man came for a mid-afternoon appointment. Lucy too didn't growl or bark beyond the usual first alert, but she followed the man around the house, from room to room, from house to van and back again, keeping her body between the man and whichever Strogatz happened to be closest. He seemed perfectly nice and not creepy or anything, said Caroline, but to Gibbs who knew how much some people could hide, it was reassuring to him that his..the...dog was a protector.

The next person to set Lucytoo off was a crook, so that was no surprise. It was the third time Lucytoo had been to work with Gibbs—this time because he had to take her for shots at lunch—and when Ziva brought the handcuffed man through the bullpen toward interrogation, Lucy rose and moved to insert herself between Ziva and the perp, causing Ziva to stumble a little. Gibbs snapped his fingers and Lucy stopped, watching them move past her, her face reproachful when she looked back at Gibbs.

"Go ahead." Gibbs said, and Lucytoo went after Ziva, this time carefully following along behind, not getting in Ziva's way.

No, if not for the dog, he wouldn't have a daily reminder of the ways that his people were vulnerable. That...he...was vulnerable.

If not for the dog, he wouldn't have noticed that it was Tony who intercepted Brian wheeling his bike over one evening while they sat on the back porch after steaks. Just as Gibbs was starting to panic. It was Tony that night who taught Brian how to ride his bike. Tony...who didn't really get along with kids...or dogs. It was Tony who lifted Lucy onto Lucytoo's back one evening as she started to climb on Gibbs' lap, who gave the older man time to rise and go into the kitchen to start cleaning up. It was Tony who got in ongoing mock battles with Sophie about the movie being better than the book, and took over his couch semi-regularly now to watch a more-grown-up-movie-than-her-brother-and-sister-were-allowed-to-see with her on the laptop. Just when the other family reminded him a little too much of his family, Tony stepped in.

Tony was protecting him. Like Lucytoo was protecting Tony.

And the first fact was something on his mind, but the second was more urgent. Today was the third time that Lucytoo didn't like someone. It was the third time she had been at work with him, in fact, and just as he released the team to go home. Because he had the dog, he left with them, all four of them and the dog fitting in the elevator without much room to spare. Gibbs and Tony both exited to the street, while McGee and Ziva kept going to the parking garage.

"Where you headed, Boss?"

"Going to take her to the park for a little while before getting in the car. What about you, DiNozzo?"

The younger man's head swivelled, searching. "Meeting a woman I met last weekend…she was going to meet me here..."

Gibbs looked around, curious and a little irritated. Did Tony know anything at all about this woman? Just as he started to ask a question about how they met, a striking blonde woman cut across the courtyard straight toward them.

Tony turned and smiled at him. "Here she is, Boss. I'll introduce you."

The woman walked right in close to Tony, barely slowing, and the man laughed and practically had to catch her as she lurched to a stop. She was definitely pretty but sharp with it, too thin and perfect.

She rested against Tony a little and he let his hand settle at her back, turned her toward Gibbs.

"Gibbs, this is—hey!"

Lucytoo had nosed her way between Tony and the as yet unnamed woman, and the woman teetered on her heels.

Tony reached across the big dog to steady his date as she scowled and tried to hide her irritation with a strained giggle. "Tony? Who's this?"

"This is my boss, Jethro Gibbs, and his dog Lucytoo. She is...usually very friendly." Tony pressed down on Lucytoo's back to keep her in place even as he moved around to her other side. Her side. Lucytoo sat down in front of Tony and looked up at him hopefully. The younger man laughed and petted her. This seemed to be an invitation to insert himself between Tony and the woman again.

"Tony, is she crazy?" The woman's voice was sharp, like her, and kind of angry.

"I don't know, Gretchen. Pretty strange. Let's go. Gibbs'll let her run in the park. Maybe she's tired of being in the office. Gibbs…" Tony gestured across the great divide between himself and his date. "Gretchen Crowley. Jethro Gibbs."

The woman's mouth smiled, but her eyes didn't. She turned toward Tony and her body curved into him, even as she held out her hand to shake Gibbs'. Tony called out a good-bye as Gretchen dragged him off.

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And that was that. Gibbs was uncomfortable though. Lucytoo's reaction was so unusual, that he texted Tony at midnight.

:Good night out?:

:Abby, that u? Did u take bossman's phone again?:

:Not Abby. Gibbs.

:That u, boss?

:Just answer the question, DiNozzo. You home?

:Yeah. Dropped Gretchen off. Watching end of west coast game. U?

:Me what?

:Have a good night...out? With the boat? How's L2?

:Fine.

…

…

: Boss?

:What, Tony?

:Why did u text me?

…

:Not going to tell me are u?

…

:Boss? Now I'm starting to worry. Do I need to come over there?

:No, Tony, I'm fine. I don't know why I texted you.

:Yr gut?

:Yeah probably.

:Ok. Well, everything is fine here. C u tomorrow.

Gibbs didn't bother to respond, frustrated with himself for contacting Tony at all. And by goddamned text. But he didn't want to interrupt Tony's date or wake him up. Not that he minded for work reasons, but not just because the dog was acting funny.

Tomorrow came and with it, one of the rainiest, windiest days on record. Water poured over their shoes in the parking area of the state park where they assembled to being processing a crime scene. Looked like someone had used the park as a dumping ground, from post-mortem abrasions consistent with a dump and roll. Recently by Ducky's estimation, although it was hard to tell with all the water. It was early morning but felt like it was even earlier, the rain making one of the loveliest parks in the city dark and sinister. There were dumpsters and outhouses at one corner of the parking lot which, to Gibbs, made it perfect for both a possible location for other evidence and as a location to send one of the team as punishment if necessary.

Gibbs was in a foul mood, even for him, and the entire team was avoiding talking to or looking at him directly. Tony had clearly drawn the short straw and spoke for them all, when speaking needed to happen. Gibbs took full advantage, barking at his senior agent in charge, making him do things over again until finally Tony too gave up.

Gibbs had slept even less than usual the night before, having dreamed alternate versions of Kate's death with Ari killing Tony instead of Kate, then McGee and Tony, then both Kate and Tony on that rooftop. He woke feeling that his hands were sticky with blood.

He scowled over at where his truck was parked, window cracked to let air in, the motionless and enormous shape of Lucytoo staring behind the glass.

Gibbs drank the last of the lukewarm coffee in his paper cup, water dripping off the visor of his NCIS cap and slipping down the neck of his jacket. He suppressed a shiver and looked around for one of his team, wondering if Ducky would be long enough he should send one of them for more coffee.

When Ducky snapped at him to be patient, Gibbs' irritation rose to a new level and he sent Tony off to the dumpsters to search for evidence. What Gibbs' could make out of the other man's face in the gloom and through the curtain of rain, was impassive. With a muttered, "Yes, boss," Tony trudged across the expanse of wet asphalt.

Bruff!

Gibbs' head snapped around to his truck and then swivelled almost immediately to pick out the dark shape of Tony, head down against the rain, and watched as a dark sedan pulled up close to the other man, doors snapping open and three shapes jumping out. Tony was down before he could pull his gun, but not before Gibbs could. He shot and hit one of Tony's attackers, and Tony had thrown off another. Gibbs' started running and knew Ziva and McGee were behind him. The wounded attacker threw himself into the car, as did the other two, and the car drove off. Without Tony. In fact, Tony managed to get another few shots off, and the car swerved before disappearing into the murk.

"What the hell, DiNozzo?!"

"What are you yelling at me for?" Tony was still on the ground, on his ass, his own hat lost somewhere, drenched. The pale oval of his face showed his own anger. "What just happened?" He looked over at someone behind Gibbs. "Did anyone get the plate?"

No one had, their view obscured by weather and the fight and the angle of the car, but Gibbs knew he had seen a 3 at the start of the string, maybe Tony had seen something else...

And when later, nearing midnight, his team still spread out in the building working the evidence for clues to why Tony would be snatched, he remained bent over the impossibly long list of license plates starting with 3 and with an M in the third or fourth position, he noticed "Crowley" as one of the entries, the image of Lucytoo forcing his way between Tony and his date the other night flashed like a beacon behind his tired eyes.

"Hey." He hadn't seen Tony come back. The younger man was leaning against the corner of his desk, holding out a fresh cup of coffee. Gibbs looked up at him, didn't take the coffee. Tony's brows went up and he looked serious. "What?"

Gibbs handed over the sheaf of paper, flipped back at the upper left corner. "Recognize any of the names?"

Tony put the cup of coffee down in front of Gibbs absently and grabbed the paper. "I didn't, but you think you do? Did I miss something." He looked up a few minutes later. "I dunno, Boss, nothing jumping out at me."

Gibbs leaned over and pointed.

"Jason Crowley?" Tony looked blank.

"You met anyone named Crowley lately?"

"Who do you— wait you mean Gretchen? That's crazy. That's—" Tony trailed off, thinking, and then his eyes were on Gibbs. "You think? Your gut bothering you, Gibbs?"

"Yeah, DiNozzo, it is."

They looked at each other for a long minute, unembarrassed. They each had their own version of the stare perfected, and waiting someone out was a strength. "You?"

Tony finally looked away, shook his head and rubbed his neck. "Yeah, I guess. That all you got though, gut?"

"You said you dropped her off. Sounds like your gut was bothering you too, Tony."

"Well, the chemistry just wasn't there, you know? I didn't think she was a kidnapper, Gibbs."

Gibbs didn't say anything about the dog's reaction. Bad enough all he had was his gut.

Tony didn't seem to mind that he didn't get an answer, heaved himself up dramatically off the desk. "Well, I'd better check her out, huh?"

Didn't take long after that.

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And then it was fall and the kids were back to school, even Lucy was in a pre-K program, but they still walked Lucytoo in the morning and afternoons, and Caroline would check in on her if she went out.

Gibbs was just back from walking the dog one evening when he noticed Abby's car in the neighbor's driveway. Lime green with skulls detailed on the back hatch. Not hard to recognize. Lucytoo must have also, because she alerted, just once.

Gibbs reached down and ruffled the hair on her head, "Okay, girl, let's go check it out, huh? What kind of unauthorized maneuvers are going on here?"

But as he headed up the short driveway, Abby and Caroline and the three kids came out the garage door, all talking at once and the kids started piling into Caroline's station wagon.

"Oh Hi, Gibbs!" Abby chirped as she took keys from Caroline's hand. "We're going bowling! See you later!"

Gibbs smiled and watched them go, looked over at Caroline in the sudden quiet. She smiled a little and said, "I'd invite you in, Jethro, but I don't want to."

He laughed knowingly. "Alone time, huh?"

"You got it." Something changed in her face and he knew there was more. He didn't ask, they weren't close enough for that, but he did wait, in case she wanted to volunteer anything else. She glanced at the closed door to the house then back to him. Seemed to come to a decision. "I asked Abby if she'd take them so I could have space to talk to Geoff without them around."

He nodded, accepting. Being a military wife, and with a family, was not easy.

She echoed his thoughts. "You were a Marine, maybe you had someone at home," Caroline seemed to realize that her personal confession was starting to get perilously close to asking him for his own, something she had to this point, been careful not to do, "but in any case, I think the kids, and me, we are really feeling all these moves. I want to stay in one place." She took a deep breath. "At least for a while. I understand, accept that he is gone a lot. The kids and I have figured that part out, mostly, but we just can't keep moving twice a year."

He realized that he had half expected her to know about Shannon and Kelly. He hadn't decided what to do about the fact that Tony was protecting him, deflecting the most obvious reminders of his lost family, and he wouldn't have been surprised if the younger man had said something to Caroline. But he hadn't. And that was...good. He was only about a year out from his return from Mexico, but he had gone so far as to put out a few pictures of his wife and daughter, up in the bedroom. He was better. Almost all the way back.

But now he had a decision to make. Caroline was already tensing, shifting to go.

"I left a wife and daughter behind." Her sudden focus on his face, her anxious eyes meeting his, made him nervous. He made himself stay still. "Shannon...my wife," his voice sounded gruff even to his own ears, "she made me buy this house, said she wanted this home for me to come back to. I was gone a lot. But we didn't have to move. So that's different than you. But for what it's worth, I think the truth is always best." He fell silent, realized he had left out the most important part...or maybe it wasn't the most important part anymore. "They died. Were murdered. When I was away." Jesus, this fucking sucked, as Tony would say. "Well, I'll let you get to your call, but if you want to send the kids over to my house anytime, in the evening, so you can keep talking, just give me a call."

He turned and walked away, the deepening twilight felt safe and he was glad to have the light of her garage behind him.

"Jethro."

He turned. "Yeah?"

She walked steadily down the drive to him, stood before him. One of the reasons they got along so well is that she seemed like a pretty private person herself, and not overly emotional. And indeed, her shadowed face seemed calm. But she moved into him and gave him a hug, almost businesslike, it was so brief and firm, and she said, softly, almost a whisper, "I'm sorry."

"Yeah." He said, but she had already turned and walked back to the house. Jethro swiped his hand across his face. Christ. But the pain in his chest was bearable. No worse than when he looked at their pictures, really.

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And Caroline did send the kids over, a few evenings, until Thursday evenings became a regular thing. Gibbs went to a toy store and bought Jenga. He didn't know what else to buy from what seemed to be hundreds of games. Finally he settled on a deck of cards and Yahtzee. They played Fish, and Crazy Eights, Yahtzee, and Jenga at the kitchen table, drinking cocoa (Brian and Lucy) and coffee (Sophie and Gibbs) and eating popcorn.

Tony came by one night just as they were getting started. He had come from a softball game and was still in t-shirt and shorts, had all his gear in the car. Brian and Lucy and Lucytoo all went to the backyard to play. Sophie said she'd rather read, but seemed glad when Jethro offered to teach her Cribbage. They set up on the back porch so they could see the others and he made a small pot of decaf coffee he had started to stock for her.

Made Gibbs uncomfortable, how much he was coming to look forward to these evenings, but hell, he had offered and Tony was certainly having a good time. Probably end up with the rest of the team here next Thursday.

He was right about that. Abby brought Life and McGee brought the Star Wars version of Monopoly. There was a lot of bickering and only the presence of the children prevented Tony and Ziva from actual shouting matches. A look from Gibbs for Ziva and a headslap for Tony was usually enough to knock some sense into them.

So even when Caroline told him that Geoff wasn't available to talk one Thursday, he insisted, saying she could use the time how she wanted, but that he had kind of got used to having the kids around on Thursday evenings. She grinned and said that was okay by her and ran off before he could change his mind.

The change in his schedule was the last in a series since the Strogatz family moved in five months ago. Despite Tony's best efforts, Lucy would regularly climb onto his lap, ask for a story. Brian would creep down into his basement on the weekend, ask if he could help with the boat. Even Sophie seemed to seek his company, occasionally, coming by for a cup of coffee (sniffing at the fact that it was decaf) and telling him about school. His mostly silent acceptance of what she wanted to tell him seemed to suit her somehow.

He wasn't surprised, exactly. He'd always been good with kids, but he hadn't thought he'd be able to enjoy being around them for any length of time . Hell, he didn't know he'd be able to withstand it.

And then there was Lucytoo, obviously well trained, because other than sleeping on the bed, he couldn't have asked for a better dog. She'd lay on the floor of the basement when he worked, run with him in the mornings, put her head on his knees when he watched baseball. This last was the only time, actually, that Lucytoo seemed conflicted, because Tony sometimes watched with him. She'd sit and put her head on Jethro's lap, let him scratch behind her ears, but her eyes would shift to Tony until finally the younger man, almost unconsciously, would pat his leg C'mon, girl and the dog would move a pace closer and put her head on Tony's lap. Then Jethro would go to get two more beers and when he came back, Lucytoo would be up on the couch climbing onto Tony's lap and his senior agent would be laughing and wrestling with the dog until they both settled in.

Gibbs would ignore it for ten minutes but then would snap his fingers and point to the floor, giving a stern look to Tony who would start to object even as the dog hopped down to resume her place on Gibbs' knee. "Not gonna let a dog get used to being on the couch, Tony."

"You just wanted her to pay attention to you." Tony smirked and opened his beer.

And if Gibbs' lips twitched as his hand resumed its scratching behind Lucytoo's ears, it didn't matter because Tony's attention was back on the game. Probably.

Once, Tony turned back to look at him, a knowing look on his face.

"What?"

Tony gestured vaguely at the couch. "This little act doesn't fool anyone."

"Don't have any idea what you are talking about, DiNozzo."

"Where's she sleep, huh, Gibbs?"

Jethro tried a blank stare.

Tony's smile widened and he nodded. "Riiiiight. On the floor. If what you mean by "on the floor" is "on the bed". Right, Lucytoo? Right baby?" Lucytoo lifted her head and grinned a happy doggy grin at Tony, licking his hand where he reached over to pat her.

Gibbs snorted, but didn't answer.

So his life had changed a little bit. Not too much, but a little.

And then, one Thursday night in early November, Caroline crept back to his house after the kids were in bed, baby monitor in hand, to tell him that they were moving.

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Jethro was going to be sorry to see them go, he could admit that much, and he was glad when Caroline told him that during the Thursday night phone calls, she had extracted a promise that she could actually buy a house when they returned to Florida, that they would stay put for at least two years. He worried, though, knowing that this was a promise that her husband might have a hard time keeping, knowing that Caroline wasn't always in a great mood when she came to pick up the kids. Raising three kids with a long distance spouse wasn't easy and he knew better than most the toll it took on a marriage.

Unseasonably warm for mid-November, he held a barbeque in his backyard the weekend before they left. The team came and they did the same stuff they always did, enjoying the repetition of their favorite activities, and being together. Caroline gave him a copy of her favorite book of essays, with her email address written on the inside, and thanked him for his gifts to the kids. As the two of them sat on the porch watching Tony and McGee race, both with a giggling child tucked under one arm, Gibbs turned to her until she looked over.

"What?"

"I think you should take the dog with you."

"Oh, Jethro, I'm not going to take your dog. What the hell," a quick glance that the kids weren't listening, "would I do with a dog? I already have three kids!" But her glance went to those kids, and the dog running after them now. She watched Lucy climb onto her namesake's back. "No," she said decisively, "absolutely not. But thank you." She reached over and took Gibbs' hand. Squeezed his rough one in her thin, strong, warm fingers.

He nodded, accepting her answer, and squeezed back, once, before rising to get more coffee.

Tuesday morning, he delayed going into work to say good-bye. Even as he helped them load their last boxes into the back of the car, Tony pulled up to the curb. Jethro hadn't expected him, but when did DiNozzo ever do what was expected?

The lump in his throat was actually painful as he lifted Lucy up to hug her, and the wiry strength of her tiny arms around his neck, and the fierce clenching of Brian around his waist didn't loosen it any. He swallowed hard at the look on Sophie's face when he shook her hand firmly, nodded at her in approval. He could see her eyes were stinging as she turned away. Lucy and Brian broke down utterly when saying goodbye to Lucytoo and the enormous animal nuzzled and licked them as if she was caring for them. Caroline was struggling too and finally she looked over at Jethro, her expression resigned and pleading both.

"Sorry?"

He nodded, glad he could do something for her and viciously tamping down his own feelings, he turned and went to get the bag of supplies he had packed, handed it over. "I didn't figure you'd get too far."

She threw her own arms around him and kissed his cheek, and as if to be fair, Caroline moved to Tony and embraced him as well. She whispered something before kissing his cheek too. Then she let Jethro load the bag into the car as the kids realized what this meant. General rejoicing was tempered with melodramatic sadness for Gibbs, who growled at DiNozzo that it was time for them to get to work and moved them up onto the lawn so that the family had space to get in the car and drive off, waving madly.

Gibbs waited til they were out of sight. Tony started to say something, but Gibbs turned and headed up to the house, calling back over his shoulder, "See you at the Yard, DiNozzo. I'd better not beat you there."

And if Tony had something to say, if he stood in the drive torn between the view down the long, empty, residential drive toward the highway, and the closed door of Gibbs' home, Gibbs didn't know it. He was busy gathering up the less essential accessories of dog ownership, placing them in a bag in the back of the truck to drop off at Goodwill at lunchtime.

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Two days later, it was Thursday.

Gibbs wasn't hiding. He was having a beer and a steak sandwich at Sammy's, a little restaurant around the corner from the hardware store where he needed to go afterwards.

He raised an eyebrow at Tony as the younger man slid into the booth across from him.

When the younger man didn't say anything, other than to order himself a sandwich and a beer, Gibbs kept eating. Finally, he looked up and said evenly, "Don't go getting me another dog, Tony, or planning group sing-a-longs at my house. I'm fine. And that's all I want to say about it."

Tony nodded and took one of his french fries. Jethro allowed it.

"I hear you, Gibbs." He scratched his ear, smiled at the waitress approaching with his food. "It's just that getting together more often has made the team...your team...stronger. It's been good for us."

Jethro's jaw worked, trying to work out if the other man was asking for something, but Tony just tucked into his steak sandwich. "Spit it out, Tony."

"What, Boss?"

Gibbs snapped, "Not your boss right now, Tony. You've got something eating at you...say it."

It was Tony's turn to raise a brow. "Okay, then, Jethro," Gibbs' glared even as Tony smirked at him, "I think you should keep game night on Thursday nights."

"And…"

"Andnuffin." Tony spoke around a mouth of beef and cheese, swallowed. "That's it."

"That's it?"

"Would I lie to you, B— Jethro?"

Gibbs took his fry back. Tony grinned at him. "You sure as shit would. You are one of the best liars I've ever met, on the job or off, DiNozzo."

"A compliment, Gibbs?" Tony looked down, pleased obviously. "You sure you are feeling okay?"

Jethro ignored this. "They back at the house?"

"Yep."

"We have time to finish dinner?"

"Sure. I need to be back to kick McGee's ass at something, sometime tonight, but otherwise, we're not on a schedule."

Gibbs glared, just to make sure Tony knew he wasn't fooled by his casual attitude. The man was trying to protect him still and hell, that was his job, but not off the clock. Hell…

"Hurry up, Tony. I do need to stop by Home Depot for an outdoor flood."

Tony stood and grabbed his remaining half sandwich, fished a twenty out of his pocket and threw it down with Jethro's. "Ready when you are, B—Jethro."

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The fall had been unusually warm, but as if his neighbors' departure had been a signal, temperatures had dropped and it had snowed several times. In the month leading up to Christmas, it had snowed several times, once, hard enough that it shut most things down. Gibbs kept busy with work, shovelling, and put in some quality time in the basement. The team came over on Thursdays and they often divided into a couple different games. Gibbs, Ducky, Tony, and one of the others played Pitch or Pinochle, Hearts or Poker, and Abby and McGee (sometimes Tony) had taken it upon themselves to educate Ziva on the best American board games, from Trouble to Candy Land, Battleship to Risk. On Game nights, Gibbs indulged himself and slept on the couch.

One of the things about getting older, and hopefully a little goddamned wiser, was that you learned that you weren't exempt from life. Just because you knew something was going to make you feel terrible, didn't mean you didn't do it, or that you didn't feel terrible when the time came. He knew he was feeling the loss of Caroline's undemanding friendship, the kids natural warmth and enthusiasm, and...well, the dog. Didn't mean he had to give in to it. Before this summer, and the arrival of new neighbors and a new housemate, he had been fixing up parts of the house he'd kept closed off since the departure of his last wife. He was sleeping in the bed, most nights. Now, he wanted to go back to the couch, leave the renovations to the master bedroom undone.

He didn't, though. Went ahead with his plans. Pulled down the floral wallpaper, put a fresh coat of paint on the walls, changed out the wall to wall carpet for the wood floors beneath, still in decent shape. Made a rare purchase of someone else's handiwork and let Jackson come up for the weekend and bring the bookshelf from Kit Pearson's shop in Stillwater. He even shelled out for a new mattress. He had to admit, once everything was in, it looked good. He thought about letting Abby pick out some curtains.

And maybe because he was the missing the kids, maybe because he was already looking for ways to get through the holidays, he started working on toys and boxes in his basement. Thought maybe he'd give them away at the hospital or something, come Christmas.

Things settled into a routine. Game nights, and making dovetail boxes the perfect size to hold baseball cards and wooden cradles for babydolls. He went out with Fornell sometimes at night. Caroline and the kids wrote him emails and he spent some time every weekend writing them back letters, on real paper with real stamps on the envelopes. Once he got a package back, with notes, and pictures made with crayons, and a photograph of them all at the beach. The team caught a couple of really difficult cases, but other than Tony twisting his knee chasing a suspect last week so that he was on crutches part of this week and now was wearing a brace, they weathered them pretty well. All and all, he could bear it, letting people in a little bit more.

Didn't mean it didn't hurt. Having a...kind of..family, again, and friends. Not to mention Tony and whatever Tony was to him. He couldn't seem to send Tony away anymore. If he hadn't made someone cry in interrogation the other day, he would think he had lost his touch. Oh Tony wasn't obvious about it. In fact, Tony didn't seem to have a plan, didn't seem to be trying to get him to open up or spend time with him or anything. Wasn't trying to fix him—and he sure as hell knew what that felt like. He just showed up when he wanted, and if Jethro was busy or not around, left. He talked Jethro into going to some basketball games, but otherwise, seemed genuinely happy to stop by with take-out, or sit on the steps of the basement. And Gibbs squelched the thought that this could come to no good. He didn't think it was probably good for Tony, to spend so much time with him. But when he asked Tony about his lack of dating, Tony laughed it off, said he was fine, liked his life the way it was, and did Jethro want to go to the movies, they were showing Star Wars on the big screen down at the State Theater. Jethro didn't but Tony came by late and told him about it, the people in costume holding replica lightsabers, and how McGee got in an argument with another fan over which was better, Star Wars or Star Trek. Gibbs smiled at his stories, poured him a jar of bourbon. Eventually, Gibbs started working again, Tony wandered upstairs. When Gibbs came up an hour later, Tony was asleep on his couch, post-game television commentary playing in the dark room.

Jethro pulled off Tony's shoes and swung his legs from the coffee table onto the couch. Tony didn't wake, but rolled over to get comfortable as Jethro spread a blanket over him.

He stood in the near dark and looked down at his sleeping friend. His chest hurt the same way it did when he looked at Shannon and Kelly's pictures, when he read the letters from Lucy and Brian and Sophie.

It hurt because it was new and a renewal both, like circulation returning. There were deeper connections forming, as well as habits of caring and trust. It had been so long. He didn't know if he knew how to do this anymore. But he did it anyway. And it was good. It hurt.

But Jethro knew now, looking down at Tony, that the pain of letting himself care, letting others care back, was only half of it. That he hurt worse than he had to because he was still protecting himself, and others. Looking down at Tony, the five o'clock shadow dark on his tanned, handsome face, lips full and slightly parted, ridiculously long eyelashes like a shadow on his cheeks...he knew that what really stole his breath, made him swallow and want to clench his fists, was how much he wanted more. That it was the holding back, holding himself separate, that was fucking killing him.

He didn't know what to do to fix it. He couldn't see a way back to the way it was before. And if he could, would he change things? Not have been at home the day the Strogatz' arrived? Never have taken the dog in? Somehow pushed Tony away before he got all the way in?

But things had started changing well before that.

He reached down and brushed the hair off Tony's forehead before turning and walking away.

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It was the day before Christmas and the morning was going to be beautiful. The cold, clear air filled his lungs with icicles.

It was early and the sound of traffic was far away. The hardy gray squirrels that lived in the sycamore scrambled on the bark of the tree and pieces of it floated down in the otherwise still neighborhood.

The sound of first his front door shutting and then the heavy metal door of his truck opening and closing, were shocking in the stillness.

The man who owned his truck before him smoked cigars, owned a dog, went to the race track. He had the truck detailed before he sold it to Gibbs and Gibbs himself had cleaned it. Despite this, when it was humid, the faint, not unpleasant, scent of tobacco and dog suffused the air of the cab when Jethro first climbed in. He even sometimes thought he smelled perfume, even more faint than the other two smells, and he smiled a little to think that there was a woman riding up here with the man and his dog. And sometimes, when he turned on the airconditioner or heater, small betting slips would spin up into the air from the vent.

It was cold and dry, though, and all those smells were mostly memory, a habit of memory. When he turned on the car, the heater, nothing came out but cold air that would soon turn warm. Rather than drive, though, Jethro sat in the cab and remembered. Remembered Lucy's arms around his neck. And Kelly's arms around his waist. He remembered Shannon singing Christmas carols in the kitchen this time of year.

There had been no signs or portents today. Just a day, like any other, though the team was off, for once. Today, tomorrow and another three days. Their turn, this holiday season. He sat, pretending to be waiting for the heater to start working until the heater started working. And still he sat. Remembered helping Brian carve an animal out of wood, remembered Lucytoo barking to warn him of people's approach. Remembered that the dog never barked at Lucy, her favorite. Remembered the dog never barked at Tony.

His favorite.

Finally, he made up his mind, got out of the truck. Slammed the door harder than he needed to before ducking in the side entrance to put the boxes in the truck. He would do that much, but the rest would take Tony, so he climbed back in and flipped open his phone.

"Gibbs? What time is it?"

Gibbs checked his watch. "About 8, Tony. Wake you up?"

"Uh...yeah. Stayed up late watching movies. Figured, you know, holiday and all, I'd sleep in. What's up? We have to go in?"

"No."

"..."

"..."

"Gibbs?"

"Yeah. I...Tony, just...forget it. I'll talk to you—"

"Want to pick me up? Get breakfast?"

"I don't want to—"

"Not a problem. It's good. I need to get up anyway. Lots to do."

Gibbs snorted, but since this is why he called, he didn't argue. "Okay, I'm on my way. Be there in ten."

"Uh, okay, could be a few minutes before I can get everything together—"

"I'll be out front whenever you're ready." He hung up without saying goodbye, smiling a little at the squeak of outrage he knew Tony was making right now.

Tony was waiting when he got there, hands deep in his jean pockets, though he had on a coat and scarf. Gibbs wanted to tell him to wear a hat. Didn't.

Tony had a hard time getting up into the high cab with the brace on his left leg and eventually took the hand Gibbs offered, let himself be hauled up and over. His hand was cold and strong, but was warming already by the time Gibbs released him to put on his seatbelt.

The question Gibbs wanted to ask him, needed to ask him, hung in the air of the cab. Flashing neon to Jethro. Invisible to Tony.

But by the time they climbed back in, an hour later and full of bacon and eggs, Tony had a question of his own. "What's in the boxes?"

Gibbs looked straight ahead, keys in the ignition but making no move to turn on the truck.

"Gibbs?"

Gibbs turned his head and met Tony's eyes with his own. Tried to find the words.

"Jethro?"

Gibbs swallowed and his voice came out rough. "Toys."

"Toys?"

"Toys."

"How many?"

"A lot." He glanced back in the truck bed. "Three big boxes worth, anyway."

"Did you make them?"

Gibbs nodded once, curt, but didn't look away again.

"What are you going to do with them?"

"Thought I'd take them to the hospital. There are kids who are gonna be there through Christmas."

Tony waited for more. It was all Gibbs could do to not change the subject, not turn on the car, run Tony home. It took everything just to sit there and wait for more himself.

"Christmas is tomorrow. You going to go today?"

"Thought I might."

"What's stopping you?"

Kids. Christmas. Shannon. Kelly. Kids. Christmas.

"Want to do it right." He finally managed to blurt out.

Tony nodded, starting to understand. "You could just drop them off, but you want to deliver them. You want my help...Jethro?"

Gibbs felt his shoulders relax a little, wondered what Tony saw in his face but suspected it wasn't much. But Tony had offered, must have known or seen something. He nodded, tightened his lips and nodded. "Yeah, that'd be good."

Started the engine. Smelled, faintly, cigar and dog and perfume. A betting slip spun out of the heater and Tony caught it.

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He couldn't have done it without Tony. He knew the woman who ran the program, had warned her he might not have time to come in, but she hoped he would, made the arrangements anyway. She set them up in a multi-purpose room that was obviously used for meditation or chappel usually, but which was decorated now. There was a table with juice boxes and cookies and music was playing. On the day before Christmas, any diversion was welcome and there were a lot of parents and kids. Really sick kids, whose immune systems couldn't tolerate a gathering like this, had been identified by the hospital coordinator and Gibbs had set aside presents for them. But a lot of kids came to the party, and there were kids who were chronically ill, who spent a lot of time in the hospital, but also kids who were in for routine but necessary surgery or procedures.

Tony talked with the parents and ran errands and interference for him while Gibbs sat on a small, hard, couch and talked with each kid before fishing in a box for a toy that seemed best. He had made more than he needed, would leave the rest here. One little girl, thumb in her mouth, blanket over her nose, indeterminate worn pinkish stuffed animal clutched under her arm, sat on the other side of the couch, looking at him suspiciously while her dark eyes watched the other kids. Eventually, without looking at her, he pulled out one of the small rocking cradles and placed it on the couch between them.

A young boy, seeing the boxes ran from the room and returned a few minutes later with stacks of cards clutched in his hands. Gibbs pulled out one of the larger boxes, varnished lightly with a swing lid, and held it up, motioning the boy forward. The boy thanked him shyly and immediately sat nearby on the floor to organize his cards. Gibbs didn't recognize them, they were definitely not baseball cards, but rather each one seemed to have a cartoon character on it with a bunch of text. Tony sat next to him for a few minutes and listened as the boy talked about his cards.

The kids kept coming. But the little girl on the couch with him was now up on her knees, placing first the blanket and then the stuffed animal in the cradle and rocking it. Tony looked up at Gibbs from the floor. "Time for coffee?"

Gibbs nodded. "Wouldn't say no."

Tony stood up and said to the little girl, pointing at Gibbs, "Can you help him while I'm gone? You don't have to, but he needs the help." Tony made a sad face, like Gibbs was really incompetent. The girl smiled a little, shot a glance at Gibbs and climbed off the couch, moved the cradle down toward the end and climbed up next to him.

"That's Ernie." She pointed to a boy near the front. "He's my brother. He likes cars."

Gibbs pointed to the box. "Think there is a car in there. You want to get it for me?"

The little girl—Samantha—and her brother Ernie both helped Gibbs speed things up, retrieving toys and handing them out. Tony came back with the coffee, sitting down next to him, and gave him a muttered, "How you holding up?"

Gibbs sipped his coffee, gestured to the kids playing, no more in line. "Just about ready to go."

Tony nodded. "I'm not very good with kids, Gibbs. You owe me for this."

Gibbs gave him a half smile, relief that he was almost done mixing in his gut with a feeling like anticipation. It was only noon and he had already done the impossible. Leaning back, watching the kids, he turned his head to look at the younger man's profile "You do better than you think, Tony."

Tony didn't meet his eyes but his lips turned up even as he brought the tiny box of grape juice to his lips. Gibbs laughed and Tony grinned as he turned his own head to meet the other man's eyes.

"Let me just go say goodbye to Rachel—" But before Gibbs could, Samantha was back and climbing up onto the couch between them. Tony's sharp glance did a quick Gibbs' check, to see if he was okay with that. Samantha's thumb came out of her mouth. She looked up at Tony, then at Gibbs.

"Are you daddies?" Before they could answer, she continued, "Those are my daddies." She pointed to two men standing close on the other side of the room. She stuck her thumb back in her mouth, flapped her fingers in a wave. One of the men waved back, and gestured her over to him, giving Tony and Gibbs a wave as well.

When she was gone, Tony remarked. "That happens surprisingly often."

"What, someone thinking we are a couple?"

Tony laughed. "Yeah."

Gibbs heaved himself off of the uncomfortable sofa and held out his hand. "Well, c'mon, loverboy, let's get out of here." The relief at having made this step, gotten through this, made him a little playful and once Tony was up on his feet, Gibbs let his hand rest in the small of Tony's back for a moment, to usher him forward. Tony looked back with his own playful grin.

Back in the parking lot, Gibbs climbed into the cab and reached over to help Tony in. Tony flopped down onto the seat and turned toward Jethro, even before he could turn on the truck.

Tony hooted. "I feel like we ran a marathon! All those kids! And it is only noon."

Gibbs grinned back, "C'mon, let's go get a burger." He tore out of the parking lot, and even though he ended up sliding across the seat and banging into the door, Tony couldn't stop laughing.

Not even the holiday shoppers bothered him today. In fact, sitting with Tony in a burger joint, right in the middle of the prime shopping district, watching everyone outside scurry around was surprisingly pleasant. Even the other diners ate quickly and left just as quick, whereas Tony and Gibbs lingered over their coffee, even after they had paid the check.

"So, what about the rest of the day? You going to work on the boat?"

Gibbs checked his watch. "I don't know. I finished all those toys last night. Maybe...you up for a ride?"

Tony didn't even bother to ask where, just pushed his empty coffee cup away and rose. "Can I drive?

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Hours later, they pulled into Gibbs' driveway, pleasantly worn out from an afternoon at a cold, windy, bleak, and absolutely gorgeous winter day at the shore. They picked up a pizza on the way back and Tony had talked Gibbs into watching a movie with him. They stopped by Tony's apartment and picked up a few dvds, and Tony grabbed some clothes in case he wanted to crash on the couch.

The headlights illuminated first the glint of red on the eyes of a cat on the neighbor's lawn, then the garage. Gibbs turned off the engine, and it was dark and quiet but for the ticking engine. Gibbs led the way, easily traversing the lawn and steps in the dark. He pulled open the storm door and held it for Tony and both men crowded into the entryway. Tony put the pizza on a side table, and pulled off his outerwear to hang on the hallway hooks. Gibbs did the same.

"You know, Gibbs, it looks good in here." Tony had walked forward and flicked a switch. Instead of the hallway gently illuminating the dark interior, Gibbs had rigged the switch to turn on lights in the living room, including the new standing and table lamps. With Sophie reading so much, and everyone over playing games, the living room had needed more light. In addition, there was a shelf for games now, another armchair, and a DVD player under Gibbs old TV.

Gibbs had turned on the light in the kitchen and gone in for two glasses, and beer. There were new handtowels on the rack, and a new toaster to replace the old one. Placemats and a new finish on the oak table. Jethro had finally gotten around to sanding it down.

Gibbs poured the beers into glasses and joined Tony in the hallway.

"Must be Christmas. Beer in glasses." Gibbs smiled and crossed the living room to start a fire. "Hey, Gibbs, didn't you say you did some other work in the house?"

Gibbs replied from where he was crouched at the hearth. "Upstairs. Been sleeping in the bedroom."

"Mind if I look?"

Gibbs twisted to look at Tony over his shoulder. "Knock yourself out."

A few minutes later, Tony returned. "Gibbs...Jethro—" Jethro rose, dusted his hands off, and looked at Tony, waiting for the younger man to say what was on his mind. "I've been thinking."

A flutter of...something...fear? Anticipation? settled in Gibbs' stomach. He gestured toward the coach and Tony sat down. Jethro chose to sit in an armchair across from him, but stayed sitting forward, elbows on knees. "Yeah?"

"Uh...thanks."

Gibbs sat back. "For what?"

Tony made a wry face. "For the best Christmas eve day I ever had."

"I had a good day too, Tony. And," Gibbs drank and rubbed the back of his neck, "I owe you a thank you also."

"Why?"

Gibbs looked around the room, noticed how much less shabby it was, how much warmer it was in the last months. "For staying at NCIS. When Jenny offered you Rota."

Tony's eyebrows shot up. "Boss—"

"Not your boss now, Tony, but still, I know why you stayed, and I appreciated it. Maybe even," and now he looked down at his hands before looking up at Tony, "needed it. And these last months, it's been good, real good, having people around here more. Having...you, around more."

"Well, you're welcome." Tony looked abashed, but pleased and a little nervous even as he scooted forward himself and said, "I—"

The wood popped behind the grate, and Gibbs looked over, got up and added a log, went back to his chair.

"What were you saying?"

"I was thinking...that I have been coming to the wrong conclusions, given the evidence."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, for instance, it's not like it happens every day, but we have been mistaken for a couple before." Tony drank, then caught Gibbs eyes. "And I have always thought it was funny, thought you thought it was funny."

"It is kinda funny."

"But why is it funny?"

Jethro didn't reply and Tony's face showed that he knew Jethro had just given something away. Jethro knew in his gut that Tony was too good at reading him, that this was a conversation he couldn't avoid. "It's not funny because I'm a guy, is it? It's for some other reason. Like I'm too young for you. Or because—" He drank again and leaned back into the couch, casual stance belying the absolute tension in his body. Waited.

And then he spoke again, and now his voice was quiet and genuinely curious. "Gibbs, do you date men?"

Gibbs didn't move, but couldn't help a small intake of breath through his nose. He kept his eyes on Tony's sharp green ones. Told the truth. "I have. Not often, but I have." Tony's face was indescribable and Gibbs couldn't help a small huff of laughter. "Hell, Tony, you asked the question, you must have thought I might say yes."

Tony shook his head, bemused. "Yeah, I guess, but...just...when?"

Feeling surprisingly relaxed now that they had gone here, Jethro leaned back a little in his chair and finished his beer. "The thing is, when your whole family is killed, when your wife who," his voice was raspy but he managed to keep it from cracking, "made your house a home, who made up the rules you lived by together, who gave you a daughter…" He cut himself off. "When that happens, the only rules you follow are the ones that keep you alive."

Tony just sat and listened. And even as he was speaking, Jethro felt how right it was for Tony to be hearing words he had only ever spoken in his head. Jethro stood up and got another two beers, handed one to the other man and sat down on the other end of the couch, angled himself to face Tony. Tony, too, shifted.

"I drank a lot. Barely slept. Finished out my tour a miserable bastard and by the end, very few people wanted to talk to me. I was out most of a year before Mike Franks offered me a job, but in that time, I carried on just like before, worked short construction jobs for a former Marine buddy by day, but nights, I drank, slept with a lot of women, got in fights. Basically, anything that would make me feel worse, would punish me, for what I had done. For what I had not done."

Tony looked like he wanted to speak, or reach out, but he didn't, and for that Jethro was grateful. He wasn't much for talking about this. But maybe it was time. Maybe it would do some good.

"I had a friend, another guy I'd served with in the corps, come to town, stayed with me for the six month training course he had enrolled in. One night I came home so drunk I could barely walk. He got me into the bathroom, eventually cleaned me up and got me into a bed. The next night when I was getting ready to go out, he said, "Hey, Jethro, let's try this instead."

"I still drank a lot, but didn't need to go out to get laid anymore. Eventually he left, but he told me to get my shit together, to call Franks back. So I did."

"What ever happened to him?"

"I don't know. He was from out west some place, was going back there when he left. I know you think I'm crap with email and shit—and hell, maybe I am—but it didn't really exist back then for regular guys like me, and pick up a phone and call another guy?" Jethro shook his head.

Tony asked, "And he was your one guy?"

Jethro shook his head again, "No, there were a few others. Not recent. Not for a long time now actually, but...well, it's different, a different kind of good, with another man…" and now he looked pointedly at Tony. "Don't you think you should be doing some of the talking here?"

Tony smiled, seemed unembarrassed but rather than explain he just said, "Yeah, it is. Different. With a man."

They looked across the space between them, blue eyes on green, firelight warming the room, the air between them thick with tension and Gibbs' own longing, long denied.

"What about rule twelve?"

Gibbs looked tired but certain. "You know, Tony, sometimes rules need to change. Or maybe I need some new rules. Do you know that the dog never barked at you?"

"What?"

"I guess I'm just saying that I'm willing to figure the next part out, if...well, if you are."

And Tony smiled, slow and sweet, straightening, his eyes flicking quick to Jethro's mouth. Gibbs felt warm and thought, apropos of nothing, Jesus, it's Christmas eve.

"I honestly can't believe that this is happening." Tony said. He looked around the room as if somehow the radio on the hutch, the potted plant on the window sill, the stack of newspapers for recycling all made it less likely.

Gibbs offered one last insecurity, feeling like a fool. "I don't know much about this, though, Tony. Wasn't exactly in a relationship with any man. It was all sex."

"Well, then, between us, we've got it covered. You know about relationships," when Gibbs raised an eyebrow, Tony added, "okay, so you don't have the greatest track record but you had at least one good one, and I know about everything else. Stay here."

He got up and went to the kitchen, and Jethro could hear him opening and closing the cupboard. Tony flicked off the light to the kitchen and went to the front door and locked it before returning to the living room. When he was there, he turned off all the lights, leaving just the fire to illuminate the space.

He sat down. Close.

The look in his eyes was surprisingly serious. Gibbs had braced himself for the DiNozzo Treatment, for Tony to be sexy and sultry and to make all the right moves. But he didn't. Instead he took a drink from the inch of neat bourbon he held in his hand. Spoke.

"Gibbs, you got blown up, forgot us, relived the worst time in your life, and left. It was one of the worst times in my life. And then you came back, and I could have your six the way I wanted. But maybe it made me see you a little differently. Oh, I've got the moves but I'm as nervous right now as I was the first time. Because it is you. Because I want this more than I have any right to. But—"

He leaned in, a shine still on his lips from the bourbon, and the faint smell of aftershave, of salt air, of Tony, came with him. He kissed Gibbs then, open mouthed and slow so that Gibbs could taste bourbon and Tony and didn't know which one was making his head spin. He pulled back just enough that he could meet Tony's eyes, but the warm breath on his face was hot and made him want...He wanted to feel that warm breath against the skin of his thigh, his cock brushing Tony's rough cheek, just before Tony took him in. He wanted to feel the breath quick against his mouth, face to face, as he fucked Tony. And he wanted to feel that breath against the nape of his neck, Tony holding him down, getting ready to fuck him—

"—if you are willing to break a rule, a Gibbs Rule, I guess I'm willing to do some of the things I don't do."

He held the glass out to Gibbs in invitation, ready to hold it for him while he drank. Gibbs took the glass and tossed it back. Tony eyes smiled but then he he moaned as Gibbs slid his fingers through the thick hair on the back of Tony's head, gripped and pulled so he could taste the salt on Tony's neck, the cartilage and adam's apple, the rasp of whiskers. And all that under his mouth, all that for him, made his cock throb. He kissed and licked up Tony's neck, along his jaw, growled in his ear, "Like what?"

"Like spend the night."

And Gibbs didn't wait any longer but met Tony in a kiss that held the memory of long muscles and strength, and flat chests with nipples that could be teased to hardness and nipped until the cock under his palm grew even more rigid and shot heat against his belly. Tony tasted spicy and male and more importantly, like Tony, and the wide, mobile mouth that rarely shut up was licking into his mouth, and tugging at his own lips until he realized the moans were coming from him.

Tony broke the kiss off, gasping, and Jethro rose only to bend and put both his hands on Tony's shoulders, leaned over and took his mouth from above. "Come to bed," he said, and Tony nodded, let Jethro pull him up, bum leg and all.

And in the bedroom, Jethro turned on one small lamp and proceeded to strip Tony down, revealing smooth brown skin to kiss and nip, even as he pulled his own clothes off to toss in a corner.

How come you get to—

You can do mine next time—

Okay but oooh, fuck, do that again—

And Jethro slid down Tony's body and took him in deep, thrilling to the still almost forbidden pleasure of sucking cock. He could tell it wasn't going to take long, but Tony slid out from under him in one smooth move and Jethro protested, made a grab, and was pinned under the younger man on the bed.

Tony kissed the fuck out of him. Dirty and sloppy and wet, one hand hot against his chest, rolling and pinching his nipple, and the other between his legs doing clever and indecent things that made his moans high and breathy.

How come you get to—

You can do me next time—

Where'd you get the lube...and...condom...Tony?—

Secret, Jethro. Now move up a little higher so I...can do...oh, fuck...that—

And Tony covered Jethro's mouth with his own, as his body bucked beneath other man's, asking for more, more pressure, more of just that spot right there, and finally more of Tony, Tony, Tony, and it should have hurt, it had been so long, but Tony was really really good at this and Jethro was really really turned on and Tony was pushing into him in long, hard strokes designed for his, Jethro's pleasure, just the right speed and position, and Jethro opened his eyes to find Tony's on his, Tony watching his every expression, Tony centered only on him on what he needed and wanted, and as Gibbs arched back, Tony leaned down and pressed in deep, covered Jethro's mouth with his own. And the memory of Tony pulled Jethro back from the edge. He pulled back enough that he could meet Tony's eyes again. And Tony's eyes were wild as he fought to hold back his own climax.

C'mon, Tony. Come for me, Babe.

I don't, I don't want to, not before—

Jethro relaxed back further on the bed, made himself even more vulnerable. Tony's eyes widened and his rhythm changed, sped up, was less controlled.

Hey. Look at me. Do it. I want to feel it, feel you. C'mon. Come for me.

And Tony lost it, crying out, and curling around the man below him, and holding himself deep inside, slipping a hand between them to stroke just barely twice so Jethro too came, hard and forever, and the sudden clenching around his sensitive cock made Tony moan and press his face into Jethro's sweaty neck and chest.

Long minutes passed, bodies pressed together almost awkwardly now, hot in the places where they touched. But there was nothing awkward between them. Jethro's hand scratched gently through the short hair on Tony's neck. And Tony still shuddered against Jethro's chest, face and mouth pressing tight against the other man. If he was a woman, he'd be weeping.

"I don't do this, Jethro." His voice sounded thin and sad.

Gibbs hand tightened around Tony's neck. "I know, Tony."

"You are going to make me, aren't you?"

Jethro huffed a small laugh so Tony could feel it against his face. "Let me up for a second, would you?"

Tony took a deep trembling breath in and flipped over on to his back. Jethro tightened stomach muscles to sit up and get a couple warm washcloths. He put one in Tony's hand, since the other man's eyes were shut. He cleaned himself up, took Tony's cloth from him, and by the time he got back from the bathroom, Tony had gotten up to take care of the condom.

Jethro crossed to him, lay his hand on Tony's cheek and kissed him. "It's still early," he muttered against Tony's mouth, still kissing him intermittently.

"Cold pizza and a movie in front of the fire?"

"Sounds good."

"Hey, Jethro?"

"Yes, Tony?"

"Merry Day Before Christmas."

"Yeah."

The two men got dressed in the dimly lit room, and Jethro turned back the covers, both sides, making sure Tony saw him do it. Hell, if he was going to break rule twelve, Tony sure as hell was spending the night.

Downstairs, they turned the lights back on, and retrieved the pizza from the hallway. Tony insisted on reheating it in the oven, since it was a special occasion. I meant Christmas, Gibbs, what did you think I meant? They ate and watched Die Hard and when they were done eating, Gibbs put one leg up on the couch and Tony leaned back against his chest, letting Gibbs run calloused fingers through his hair, and slip one hand under his shirt to rest against his stomach.

And when they went upstairs to bed later, brushing their teeth and washing up, it was weirdly domestic except for the fact that they didn't bother with boxers and it was a long time later before they actually got any sleep.

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Jethro woke Tony up with a kiss.

"Mmmm?"

"Nothing. Apparently, I have no willpower around you DiNozzo."

"That's good to know. Whatimeisit?"

Tony's face was squished into the pillow and he was spread out on the bed on his stomach, one leg higher than the other. When he moved, he moaned a little.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good. Fantastic actually." He pressed forward for another kiss. "Just sore. You know."

"Yeah." Smiled against each others' mouths.

"What time is it?" Tony asked again.

"Almost ten."

Tony's eyes popped open. "We're running late. Abby's going to be here any minute."

Jethro was surprised. "What? What for?"

Tony jumped up and started putting clothes on, throwing some to Gibbs. Gibbs only got his jeans on before Tony pulled his shirt back off again. "I can't wear the same clothes as yesterday, she'll know! No, wait, she didn't see me yesterday." He pulled the shirt back on, and straightened suddenly, looked right at Jethro. "Not that I care if she knows. It's just that we haven't talked about it—"

Gibbs, confused, still responded to Tony's need. "It's okay, Tony. We'll figure it out. Why is Abby coming again?"

Now this Tony he recognized. That too innocent face didn't fool him. "What did you do?"

There was knocking at the front door and the muffled sound of Abby's outraged voice. Tony sprinted down the stairs. Gibbs followed at a more dignified pace but got an armful of cold air and warm Abby as soon as he got to the living room. "Gibbs, why did you lock your door, you never lock your door?"

But Gibbs wasn't answering, he was looking at Tony. And at the dog. This one was just a puppy. Small but destined to be big. Really big. Tony thrust the dog at him even as Abby, having run out to the car, staggered in holding bags of food. And then McGee and Ziva and Ducky were all crowding in, talking about breakfast and Mimosas and starting a fire.

And Gibbs held the dog, scratched her tiny head. She licked his hand.

"You like her?"

He looked up to see Tony standing near, though not near enough.

"Just because I let the dog stay doesn't mean I'm not still a bastard, Tony."

"I know, Jethro." The smile the younger man gave him was knowing and...well, loving...all at once. "Let's go before they eat all the bacon."


End file.
